I shake my head. “No, but we did some other stuff until I said your name and she walked out on me. I spent the rest of the night telling my ex that I was in love with this beautiful, smart and crazy girl with an adorable accent who knew how to put me in my place.”

A sob overtakes her body. I try to reach for her but she shies away. Instead I pull her hand into mine and sit back. This should’ve been my spot from the get-go, but she refuses to allow me back in.

“Daisy, I realize this may not be the best time, but I need to say this to you. I want to figure things out between us because I’m in love with you. If you don’t love me, let me know, but if you do and want us to have a future, you know where to find me.”

I stand up and kiss her on her forehead, lingering there as long as possible before I leave her to say a private goodbye to her grandfather.

EDavenport @TheRealEthanD – 1 hour

@BoReRenBlog I miss you

It’s been a month since I saw Daisy and I have a feeling that was my last time. Each home game, I walk out of the dugout looking for her, only to find her seats empty. They remain vacant during the game, diminishing any hope I have of ever seeing her again.

When I left her at the cemetery, I thought for sure she’d call or show up. I even left my door unlocked a few times hoping I’d come home from a road trip to find her living there. It’s been a letdown each and every time. I’ve tried calling her. For a while her phone went to voicemail after four or five rings until one day the call didn’t even go through. I don’t know if she changed her number because she’s sick of me calling or what.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is her blog. It’s still up and running, reminding us of just how poorly we’re doing this year. I’ve kept her secret from the team. I figured if she wants to tell everyone that she’s the BoRe Blogger, she can do that when she’s ready. It’s not my news to share.

We’re in the middle of a long home stand, ten games until we hit the road again. The Cleveland Indians are in town and after my last at bat, we’re leading three to nothing. I thought that after the funeral my batting average would continue to suffer, but it hasn’t. I’m currently batting .320, the highest in the American League, but not in the Majors. A couple of guys in the National League are still kicking my ass. Also kicking my ass is my nervous tick. It’s back with a vengeance since Daisy and I broke up. Who knew she was the cure and now that she’s gone, it’s something I have to continue to live with?

One thing I have learned from Daisy is that she was accurate in her assumptions. I spent hours pouring over her blog, reading the shit that she was writing only to find out most of it is true. Cooper Bailey is coming to Boston, and soon. No one knows what his position will be, as there’s still no word on what’s going on with Bainbridge.

Jasper Jacobson is currently up to bat. The rumors about him not being happy in Boston are true, which makes things a bit awkward in the clubhouse. He wants a trade, but Stone hasn’t done anything about it yet. There’s speculation that Jacobson might be involved with Bainbridge’s wife, but no one’s talking.

Jacobson is facing a full count and the fans are rallying behind him. We’re all standing in support. We need a win; after our last two games being losses, we need some happy. He swings and connects with the ball, sending the right fielder to the warning track. We lean back and pray as the right fielder jumps, missing the ball by an inch. We run out and meet him at home plate, slapping him on the back and trying to show him that we’re still his team despite everything going on with his personal life.

With no outs, all we have to do is add more runs. Bryce Mackenzie is up next with Travis Kidd on deck.

“Someone’s dogging ya,” Kidd says as he nods behind me. I can hear my name being called, but I don’t want to look because he’s likely up to something. The fact that my name is being called means nothing, since the kids are always trying to get us to sign things, give them a bat during the game or even look at them. It was a thrill when it happened to me so I know what it’s like to get attention from your favorite player, let alone any player.

“Just a fan, I’m assuming,” I say, shrugging him off and focusing on Mackenzie’s at bat.

He shakes his head and starts laughing. “A super fan,” he says, nodding behind me again. “You might want to turn around.”

“You might want to pay attention to the game. Mackenzie could hit a foul ball and smack you in the tallywacker.”

“Jesus Davenport, just turn the hell around.”

I roll my eyes and finally give in, but only halfheartedly. I look over my left shoulder and see no one calling me and over my right to find the same thing.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kidd swings the bat a few times before he stops because Mackenzie has a hit and is now on first base. “Turn all the way around, Davenport. Stop being a bitch.”

I do as he says and I’m met with a pair of green eyes that I have burnt into my memory. She’s sitting behind our dugout in the center seat. She stands and points to her shirt. The front of it says, “I’m sorry”. I can’t help the stupid ass grin that is plastered all over my face.

I lean forward, resting my hands on the edge of the dugout. “Are you busy after the game?”

“No,” Daisy says with a smile.

“You are now,” I say, not caring that I’m probably jumping the gun and assuming she wants to see me. It’s not a guess; I know she does. “Stay right there and I’ll come get you when the game is over.”

Before I know it, we’re on the Jumbo Tron with hearts all around our picture. She covers her face and I turn back to the game, only to turn around and wave my hat at the section she’s in. They roar with cheers and start chanting my name.

We win, nine to one. I had a few more base hits and some RBI’s to add to our run count. Every Renegade player had at least one base hit. It’s odd when that happens, but we take it and run with it when it does. As soon as I enter the clubhouse the reporters are there. They call my name and instead of going to them, they come over to me and shove their microphones into my face as soon as I sit down.

“Ethan, you made a pretty big display of affection today during the game. Do you care to tell us about your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “I’ve been in love with her for as long as I can remember. She means everything to me.” Suddenly their microphones are even more in my face.

Tags: Heidi McLaughlin The Boys of Summer Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net